Oh. Dear.

So I went to Paris and it was fabulous, wonderful, fantastic, terrific. I had a great time, saw so much and have decided to go back.

Then I got home. Something bad happened this weekend. Very, very, very bad. Bad enough to make me realize how insignificant all the rest of my stupid little problems are, how people get worked up over nothing. I don't know how to react. I'm pretending nothing has happened. I told three people, because I had to tell one, and two others were around. I broke down. I don't have time for this shit. I don't have time or energy, and all of a sudden I feel hopeless. All I can see in my head, over and over is...

Oh dear. Oh, God.